


Sunday Morning, Babington House, London.

by MissSally



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSally/pseuds/MissSally
Summary: Lord Babington's friends are used to having him available to help them at all times, but he is newly married and just wants to spend time with his wife.
Relationships: Lord Babington/Esther Denham
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	Sunday Morning, Babington House, London.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [belle1990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belle1990/gifts).



> Watched Sanditon, adored Esther and Babington. I have quite afew ideas floating around my head for these two.
> 
> Read 'Next To You: Sanditon Season 2' by the Most Amazing belle1990 and am loving it! There is a particular scene in Chapter 8 where Sidney Parker arrives at the Babington's London residence at an ungodly hour on a Sunday morning and Babington keeps him waiting.
> 
> For half an hour.
> 
> This is inspired by that - by which I mean I am a tiny, tiny dot on the very furthest horizon of this fabulous, sassy, confident story 
> 
> If you have not read 'Next To You: Sanditon Season 2' - do it!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310246/chapters/58604395
> 
> (belle1990, if this story offends you in any way PLEASE let me know and I will remove it)

The servants at Babington House, Mayfair had grown accustomed to Lord Babington’s friends coming and going at all times of the day and night. Such was their employer’s generous nature it was not uncommon for at least one of the bedrooms to be occupied by a gentleman who had missed the last coach home, or were sleeping off the excesses of the night before, or had injured themselves after partaking in one of the varied ‘sports’ the young gentlemen about town seemed to occupy themselves.

It was for this reason that when a slightly dishevelled Sidney Parker arrived at Babington House shortly after dawn one bright October Sunday morning, he knew he would be admitted. Indeed, Deacon, Babington’s butler of many years, listened patiently as the young gentleman tangled an apology for the early hour within a fervent declaration that he simply had to speak to Lord Babington on a matter of urgency. In addition, the redoubtable butler didn’t even flinch as he caught sight of Mr Parker’s horse beginning to show a worrying interest in the immaculate hedging lining the short driveway. The minutest of gestures from Deacon had the hall boy hurrying to take the animal to the mews, whilst he himself guided Mr Parker towards the lounge.

A quick visual appraisal of the young gentleman provided the uniquely experienced Deacon with enough information that, whilst clearly agitated, Mr Parker was not under any physical or emotional distress. Content, therefore, to leave Mr Parker to pace the lounge, Deacon went to arrange for a pot of coffee to be taken up to the gentleman before ascending the three flights of stairs and proceeding down the long corridor to knock firmly on the door of Lord Babington’s bedchamber.

* * *

Lady Esther Babington tilted her head back and closed her eyes. A quiet moan mingled with her rapid shallow breaths, her hand reaching up behind her to grasp the pillow whilst her husband’s wicked cleverness with his finger and thumb beckoned waves of ever-increasing pleasure from her willing body.

The firm, short knock on the door momentarily pulled Esther back to herself.

‘Don’t leave,’ she murmured, flexing her hand on the pillow to brush her fingertips against Babington’s arm. She turned her head towards him and opened her eyes, dark with arousal and lust. ‘Don't stop,’ then, barely audible, ‘ . . . _please_.’

‘ _Esther_ ,’ Babington’s throat was suddenly very dry. His beautiful, extraordinary Esther in this moment with him at her most powerful and most vulnerable. He dipped his head to brush his lips against hers, smiling as the merest whisper of extra pressure from his thumb caused her to gasp into his kiss. ‘World be damned, I am not going anywhere.’

The would-be interruption was very soon forgotten as the gentle circles of Babington’s thumb and quickening curls of his finger had Esther tumbling in to trembling, sighing bliss. Her hips pushing towards his hand, her head once more tilted back against the pillow. The curve of her throat proving too much of a temptation for Babington, Esther’s pulse thundering under his gentle lips until she shifted closer to him with a searing kiss. Her husband’s desire for her so powerful, Esther could almost taste it on her tongue as her body finally quieted, warm under his hands.

‘Babington,’ hummed in smiling approval as he moved on top of her.

‘Esther,’ in that low, husky tone that always sent her senses spiralling. Then that handsome, infuriatingly confident smile as he felt her move beneath him.

‘Hmmm,’ she attempted and immediately failed, to regain some composure. ‘Where . . . where _did_ you learn to do that anyway?’

‘What, this?’ Babington teased her and then grinned as his movement caused Esther to moan with pleasure. Then her eyes flashed with mischief and she was pushing her husband over on to his back causing _him_ to gasp and then moan as she sat up and rolled her hips against him, catching his hands before he could reach up and touch her.

‘Where?’ The look in her eyes alone would have been enough to make Babington’s resolve waver. But Esther with her eyebrow and mouth quirked in triumph, her chin tilted, her hair gloriously tousled, her beautiful body arching on top of him, Babington knew he was lost.

‘A book,’ he smiled at her surprise, taking his advantage to sit up slip his hands from hers to settle them instead on her waist. ‘A book I found in the library of a French surgeon.’ Then he dropped fluttering kisses along her collarbone to hide his amusement as he added, ‘I do always get the translation correct, don’t I?’

‘Babington!’ Esther growled, and made as though to move away from him, but his arm was now firm about her waist preventing her from doing more than moving with him. Esther’s breath caught in her throat and Babington looked up at her with those deep blue eyes, his smiling expression full of love. ‘You scoundrel!’ This gentle, passionate man who had seen her so clearly from the very beginning, who had given and given and given and never taken. This man with whom she was deeply in love. A smile began to play at the corner of her lips.

‘Ah HA!,’ Babington triumphantly traced her smile with his fingertip. ‘So you do love me still!’ Esther rolled her eyes, but her smile grew wider as her husband pulled her still closer to him.

‘You should consider yourself most fortunate that I do, Lord Babington,’ Esther said airily but then pressed her mouth to his, her hands combing through his already messy curls.

‘I love you,’ whispered between long soft kisses.

‘MMmm, tell me again.’

‘I love you,’ and Babington was above her once more, pressing her into the tangle of bed sheets as their hands clasped tightly on the mattress above her head.

* * *

Deacon, having let some quarter hour or more pass, knocked once more on the heavy door of Lord Babington’s bedchamber. This time, after a few moments, he heard movement within and the door was opened by his employer, clad in a Banyan.

‘Good morning, Lord Babington,’ Deacon bowed his head briefly in greeting. ‘My apologies for the early hour.’

‘No matter, Deacon.’ Babington resolutely kept his eyes on the man in front of him and not on what he knew was to his left. As the door opened into the room and away from the wall, Esther was fully hidden from the hallway and so had remained in bed as he had left her a moment ago, barely covered by the bedclothes. She was proving to be a distracting periphery. ‘What is it?’

‘Mr Sidney Parker, Lord Babington,’ Deacon explained. ‘He arrived a short while ago and insists on speaking with you at your earliest convenience. Mr Parker impressed upon me that it was most urgent.’ Babington sighed and allowed himself to glance at Esther.

‘Very well,’ he ran a hand through his hair and looked back at his butler. After well over a decade as employer and servant, certain understandings existed between the two men. Any person arriving in imminently dire need, Deacon ensured Babington was informed immediately. That Deacon had waited told Babington much of what he needed to know. ‘Ensure Parker has everything he requires.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Both knowing that any and all requirements would have already been supplied.

‘Are there any other possible arrivals that should be prepared for on Parker’s behalf?’ Over the years this question, applied to many late night arrivals at numerous locations, had encompassed surgeons, local militia, worried friends and family, enraged injured parties and all manner of people in between.

‘No, sir.’

‘Good,’ another brief glance at Esther, then back to Deacon. ‘I shall be down directly.’

‘Very good sir. Thank you.’ The butler inclined his head again and turned away as Babington closed the door.

‘He is very thorough, persistent too,’ Esther said as she turned over to lay on her stomach and rested her chin on her hand. Babington paused to place a kiss on the top of her head as he made his way over to the water jug and bowl on the stand against the wall.

‘He has always had good cause to be so,’ Babington dropped his Banyan on a chair and splashed water on his face, catching Esther’s eye in the mirror as he grabbed the drying cloth from the table. ‘Just as I have always had good reason to not always respond at the first.’

‘You have _always_ had?’ his wife’s expected teasing tone made Babington laugh as he searched for his clothes. Esther was now sitting up, her eyes alight with intrigue. ‘For shame Lord Babington! Such as?’ Babington stepped into his breeches, discarded from the night before, and began to button them as Esther continued. ‘Unsuitable bedfellows?’

‘No! More likely to have been,’ Babington paused searching the right phrase. That impossibly confident smile again as he looked at her and said, ‘unsuitable thoughts.’ Esther rolled her eyes at him and raised a questioning brow for him to continue. ‘Unsuitable thoughts following sleepless nights,’ Babington came to sit beside her on the bed and began to place gentle kisses on her shoulders as he spoke. ‘Nights during which I wrote long, unsuitable letters to a lady who showed no sign of affection.’ He moved his attention to her neck. ‘Each letter having to be burnt immediately before I did something as irrational as to send them.’

‘MMmmm,’ Esther cradled Babington’s head, biting her lip as he reached a particularly sensitive place. ‘Maybe you should have kept those letters,’ she coaxed Babington’s mouth to hers. ‘I should like to have known what you would have written to this lady.’ She felt him smile into her kiss.

‘You _do_ know.’ He trailed his fingers down Esther’s back, his hand coming to rest on her hip as he pulled away from her to meet her gaze. ‘Every moment you are in this bed with me, you know.’

‘You are causing me to doubt my decisions, Babington,’ Esther’s voice was husky now. ‘I realise I perhaps should have responded sooner to your initial correspondence.’ She had moved closer as she spoke, they were a breath apart.

‘Perhaps you should have.’ Babington’s last word was caught by Esther’s heated kiss. Her hands traced his jawline then fell to rest on his shoulders as they pulled apart, foreheads touching.

Damn Sidney Parker!

Babington looked up at Esther and then took her hands and pressed a kiss to each of them ‘I will never answer that door again!’ Still looking at her, he sighed deeply and then stood up to search through the discarded linen for his shirt. ‘Your husband, Lady Babington,’ he said as he found and then dismissed her chemise and petticoat. ‘is a fool.’ Esther laughed as Babington straightened up and turned back to her, his shirt in his hands, and then appraised her husband’s carelessly glorious state of undress. His strong arms, broad chest, breeches dangerously low on his waist without the braces in place.

Sidney Parker, _be_ damned!

‘My husband, Lord Babington,’ Esther said as he came towards her, ‘is a gifted translator and a talented letter writer.’ Babington grinned and ducked his head as he took her hand and let her pull him to her. Then he suddenly tensed, heart leaping to his throat as Esther slowly slid a finger into the waistband of his breeches so that the fabric slipped a little and she placed lingering kisses low on his stomach.

‘Esther,’ Babington groaned, his head falling back as he felt the tip of her tongue against his hip. ‘Christ! . . . _Esther_.’ His hands came to rest on her shoulders. Did he even know a man by the name of Sidney Parker? He was on the verge of forgetting his own name, but damn his bloody conscience! Babington gritted his teeth and scrubbing his hands over his face, looked down at Esther.

‘I’m going to go now,’ he said unsteadily as Esther leaned back, the bedclothes now doing nothing whatsoever to cover her. She tilted her chin up to invite his kiss which he hungrily obliged. ‘I am going.’

‘Mmm hmmm,’ Esther loved seeing her normally confident, clear headed husband wrong footed like this and she smiled wickedly as Babington straightened up and swallowed, hard. Over the past few weeks, encouraged by Babington’s unashamed passion for her, Esther had been giving increasingly free reign to her desire for him when they were alone.

The results had been most gratifying.

‘Parker’s matter of urgency had better be a brief one,’ Babington took a deep breath and then bent to pick up his shirt again. Gathering a level of self-restraint any man would be impressed by, Babington began to move across the room, pulling his shirt clumsily over his head as he did so.

‘If you are asleep when I return,’ he said turning back from the relative safety of the door. ‘I can promise you; I will be waking you.

‘Ensure you do so in an acceptable manner, Babington,’ Esther said, settling herself on stomach on her husband’s side of the bed. ‘and I may then consider any petition you care to raise.’ She hid her grin by pulling a pillow to her as Babington left the room, his laughter echoing down the corridor.

* * *

‘Deacon,’ Babington greeted his butler as he came quickly down the stairs.

‘Sir.’ Deacon waited until Babington reached the entrance hall. ‘Mr Parker is in the lounge.’

‘Good,’ Babington crossed the hallway, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt as he did so. ‘Is there coffee?’ ‘

Yes, sir.’

‘Excellent.’ Babington made a half-hearted attempt to straighten his collar, before catching sight of a letter on the side table. ‘Do we have any other residents at the moment?’

‘Lieutenant Lightwood spent a few hours waiting in the library last night before catching the coach to Portsmouth, he left you that note of thanks.’ Deacon said, indicating the letter. ‘Also, Lord Russell arrived shortly after you and Lady Babington last night sir. He is currently in the guest wing in his usual room.’

‘Any trouble?’ Again, the long relationship negated any need for explanation. Although extremely rare, any rudeness, violence, excessive drunkenness or arriving with whores, mistresses or friends not known to the Babington household were not tolerated.

‘No, sir.’

‘Good,’ Babington nodded. ‘Thank you, Deacon.’

‘Thank you, Lord Babington.’ The butler inclined his own head in response and moved away as Babington opened the lounge door and went into his friend.

**Author's Note:**

> The following are all direct quotes/ideas from Next To You: Sanditon Season 2'  
> \- the entire set up  
> \- Babington House name and location  
> \- Sidney arriving on Sunday morning.  
> \- Sidney waiting in the lounge  
> \- Babington waking Esther 'in an acceptable manner'
> 
> Seriously, why are you reading this note now when you could be reading 'Next To You: Sanditon Season 2'
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310246/chapters/58604395
> 
> Do it! NOW!
> 
> (again, belle1990, if this story offends you in any way PLEASE let me know and I will remove it)


End file.
